


schism of the giants

by beforeallthis



Category: Halt and Catch Fire
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 00:17:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11001975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beforeallthis/pseuds/beforeallthis
Summary: At that hotel door, it’s the first time it occurs to Cameron that Mutiny was theirs. Theirs.Until it wasn’t theirs. Until it wasn’t anybody’s.





	schism of the giants

She has the same lips as the girl from the arcade nights. Every night with a long thin arm wrapped around her waist, the arm attached to the lanky boy stuck flush against her side – his nails painted black and his hair bleached to oblivion. A strange feeling became her, like she was looking at herself from a distance, and in the pit of her stomach she couldn’t rationalise the anger she felt. So instead, she focused on the girl and her lips. The lip gloss might make the kiss sweeter. Either way, she knows for a fact that she could kiss her better than her guy ever could.

Donna doesn’t wear lip gloss. Lipstick, always. Today, it’s a matte orange from Maybelline – she was with her when she bought it. Cameron doesn’t wear lip gloss, either – never cared for it much, but she can’t help but appreciate the way it looks on Donna’s lips, ever-plush and soft, inviting.

There was the night outside the clinic, Donna with no make-up – Donna with her make-up smeared down her face with salt tears. Donna ragged and aching, sobbing from her throat, guttural. Cameron waited for her in the dark, as close as she could be while the windows fogged up. The condensation dripping; smaller drops rolling into one, wiped away when she rolled down the window for air and Donna quietens slightly but she’s still shaking like a leaf.

There was the night in that tiny little room Cameron had claimed for them, and Tom, sometimes. The night where Cameron was struggling, struggling to breathe with her hands up in her hair in a frenzy and her own nails dragging on her scalp and skin, leaving blood red trails against the surface. The tears in her eyes threatening to spill but she’s trying to catch her breath – just trying to catch her breath. Donna stayed as close as she could, absorbing the panic bouncing off of every wall in this small box they called a room. She waited for her then, too.

~

That small room – that makeshift office they both shared, and Tom, sometimes (but Donna was never there for that). Bags under their eyes. She and Gordon shared nights like this – Cameron also shared nights with Gordon like this, but it wasn’t so quiet. Joe was there, sometimes. Wasn’t as nice as this.

Cameron writes a line of code that feels so good her body shivers.

“Donna,” she taps her shoulder aggressively and Donna has to peel herself away from the screen, mildly annoyed, until she sees what’s written on-screen. The chair rattles as she gets up to take a closer look and the giddiness in the room is contagious. They’re so tired that they’re full of energy, and Cameron becomes suddenly aware of Donna’s warmth next to her. Between the look of pure wonder on Donna’s face and the green text on the screen, she doesn’t know what to do with herself, proud of herself in more ways than one.

“Cam,” Donna looks back at her, mouth agape and those lips – those – “you did it.”

Cameron cannot stop herself from thinking that the smile is for her, is hers. She knows she doesn’t want to write another line of code, not right now. The energy inside moves her and she will not regret this, not when Donna’s eyes shut ready for her, tired but ready. Not when Donna laughs into her mouth, her heart nearly bursting in her chest. Her headphones clatter on the floor and her hands find Donna’s wrists, her fingers hooked on the leather of the watch Gordon gave her.

“Cam,” she says against her lips. _Cam,_ she says again and she is completely lost in the whisper. The orange lipstick smeared against her, she kisses a trail down her neck and frees Donna’s wrists to go for the hem of her shirt, the buttons on her slacks. Donna whines and giggles when she drags her teeth against her skin.

Cameron – “Cameron,” – drops to her knees. Their eyes lock when Cameron – _“Cam,” –_ drags her slacks down and off her legs, brings her knee over her shoulder, and her hand pushes her panties to the side. She looks up one last time as Donna’s big judging eyes flutter shut, as she arches, as her fingers rake through her hair.

_Cameron. Oh._

She couldn’t do this without her.

~

Cameron does not forgive her. Not really.

And for a second, every day, she regrets it. She regrets giving in. She regrets the touches. She regrets the office they had together and the code they wrote and the meetings. She regrets this thing they built together - this thing she was no longer a part of.

Only for a second.

She couldn’t have gotten that far without her. That much is true.

But then Mutiny - yes, it’s real name - would still be hers.

She’s not sure that she’s happy when it turns out Donna couldn’t do it without her, either. From a distance, everything falls apart and crumbles miserably to the ground in ruins - this thing that she’s no longer a part of. And it doesn’t make her as happy as she thought it would.

A giant falls and the ground shakes.

Again.

~

Divorce looks good on Donna. Her hair is still at her shoulders but she looks lighter – Cameron knows she isn’t. There’s something heavy on her shoulders, but marriage isn’t one of them. She has one extra button undone than she used to. But that’s the same lipstick. The same orange on those same lips. Cameron realises that she had fallen in love with what she made, with Mutiny – did she make Donna? Or did Donna make her? 

At that hotel door, it’s the first time it occurs to Cameron that Mutiny was theirs. _Theirs._ Until it wasn’t theirs. Until it wasn’t anybody’s.

A side of her wants to slam the door shut in her face.

“I picked up the phone so many times,” her voice does not waver. She’s a businesswoman, more than she ever was.

Cameron gives in to the side of her that lets her (back) in. It clicks shut quietly while Donna stands in the middle of the room looking at nothing in particular, waiting.

“Never actually called though, did you?” she says to the back of Donna’s head. It sounds less angry than she wanted it to. 

Donna looks down at the ground for a second with her lips twisted – a smirk? A laugh? A grimace? It’s something, it’s nothing. Divorce looks good on Donna and she knows it herself.

Donna has regrets, too.

She reaches a hand behind her, where she knows Cameron’s wrist will be. Waiting for her to pull back, slap her away, but nothing happens – her pulse stays steady under her fingertips and she feels Cameron’s breath on her neck. She’s a businesswoman with no tears in her eyes and regret locked deep within her chest. Donna would never say out loud that she deserved whatever Cameron gave her, except Cameron gives her nothing.

Something has to happen.

Donna turns around and risks it - after all, she didn’t have much left to lose. She pushes herself up on her toes and Cameron meets her halfway, bruising and her hands already pulling Donna’s crisp, clean white shirt from out of her trousers. They make it to the couch through pushes, shoves and tugs, and their lips rough against each other. Lipstick smeared. The anger - _yes_ , there it is - doesn't taste new on Cameron's lips.

Donna is a businesswoman with no tears in her eyes. Instead, something ugly is locked in her throat and she is choking on it, on regret and _this._

A button pops off her shirt and Cameron’s nails leave trails on her legs from where she’s pulled down her trousers, the black lace with it. This time, Cameron does not look up.

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this was
> 
> also i havent watched the show in a while so there's lil to no adherence to canon. anyway i miss them
> 
> again im sorry i have no idea what this was


End file.
